


Trick-or-Treating Blues

by Owenjones



Series: Good Omens One Shots [7]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen, Halloween, Nanny Crowley (Good Omens), POV Warlock Dowling, Warlock Dowling Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:28:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26953642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owenjones/pseuds/Owenjones
Summary: Halloween's coming up, and Warlock Dowling doesn't know what he wants to be.Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis want to help, but neither of them has any idea what a six-year-old potential Antichrist would want to dress up as for Halloween.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens One Shots [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1453525
Comments: 1
Kudos: 37





	Trick-or-Treating Blues

**Author's Note:**

> I have so many WIPs collecting dust on my computer... and then I write and post this on an impulse...   
> Anyway, happy spooky month to everyone! Take care <3

Halloween was coming up and Warlock Dowling couldn’t decide on what to be. 

Last year he had dressed up as a robot. The year before a ghost. And the year earlier he was pretty sure he had been a bee. 

But this year he was all of 6 years old, so he knew he had to think of something much more grown-up than any of those. 

His friends in school had been talking about their costumes for ages. An Elsa here, a Luke Skywalker there, a pirate here, a skeleton there. Occasionally there was one kid who came up with some monstrosity like a vampire wizard that moonlights as a werewolf, or a unicorn that just happened to be a zombie ballerina as well, but most of the time people stuck to the things that could be found on the shelf of any store that sold costumes. 

Whenever someone asked Warlock what he was going to be, he simply didn’t have an answer. 

A few days before the 31st, his mom said he was going to have to come up with a costume soon because otherwise it would be too late to buy it and he’d have to skip out on Halloween entirely. Warlock didn’t want that.

When he was being tucked into bed that night, Nanny Ashtoreth noticed something was wrong. 

She shut the book she had been reading out loud to him and said, “Warlock, dear. What’s wrong? I thought it was your favorite story.”

“Nothing, Nanny,” he said, “I liked the story. I’m fine.”

She tucked in the sheets around him, “You know you can tell your Nanny anything, right?”

He sighed and grabbed his teddy bear, “I just… I don’t know what I’m going to be.”

A strange look passed over Nanny Ashtoreth, and she pushed back his hair tenderly, saying in a sweet voice, “You know when you grow up, you’re going to crush the defenseless armies of the world under your heel--”

“I know, I know. I mean for Halloween,” Warlock said, starting to get a little teary-eyed as he went on, “I have no idea what to be, and if I don’t come up with something, Mom is going to make me stay home while everyone else gets to go out and get candy. But I really can’t think of anything! I don’t know what I’m going to do.” 

“Hmm,” she hummed sympathetically and paused for a moment while Warlock sniffled. There were these moments where Nanny Ashtoreth became something a little more than a nanny, like those times when Warlock was put in unfair timeouts or when anyone picked on him. “Let me tell you something,” she said, “No one can tell you what you’re allowed to do or not.”

“But I’m just a kid. If Mom puts me in a timeout--”

“Don’t worry about that, dear. She won’t do that.” 

“Yeah?” Warlock said.

“Yeah,” she placed the book she had been reading back on the shelf and switched off the big light (leaving the night light glowing in the corner), before adding, “You’re a clever one, and I know you’ll come up with something. Tomorrow we can think about it together, okay?” 

“Okay, Nanny. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, dear.” She left the bedroom door open ever so slightly, the perfect amount of open for Warlock and he easily drifted to sleep.

***

Nanny Ashtoreth brought Warlock out to a walk in the gardens, which always made him feel better when he was blue. 

He ran far ahead of Nanny and up to Brother Francis who was taking a break under a tree with his pipe (as he always seemed to be--and yet the garden flourished like never before). 

“Brother Francis!” Warlock cried out. 

“Oh! Master Warlock,” Francis said. With a flourish of his hand by Warlock’s head, he made it seem like he pulled a flower out of the young boy’s ear. Warlock squealed with joy. 

“Did you see that, Nanny!” he cried out, brandishing the little flower. 

“Yeah…” behind her sunglasses, she rolled her eyes at Brother Francis’ far-too-smug look, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Mrs. Ashtoreth,” Francis said, tittering to himself, “I’m really sorry, but I’m afraid you have to speak up. I’m not so good on the hearing front these days.”

“Wonderful!” she said louder, “It’s almost as though you can do real magic.”

“Thank you, thank you kindly, dear.” 

“We’re trying to come up with Halloween costumes!” Warlock said,

“Costumes, eh?” 

“It’s all too American, isn’t it?” Nanny Ashtoreth said, “I bet Halloween is too new for Brother Francis to even know what it is.”

“Oh, but you must remember that Halloween started on this side of the pond with Celtic festivals, Mrs. Ashtoreth,” Francis said dreamily, “Big bonfires, the smell of roasted hazelnuts, cakes, the best apples…” 

“It almost sounds like you were there,” Ashtoreth said. 

“Well, of course not. That would be absurd. What nonsense you speak, Mrs. Ashtoreth.” He said, “Anyway, what was it we were talking about… Oh yes! Costumes! I always think it would be best to dress up as something that makes people smile.”

“Like what?” Warlock said. When Francis shot a panicked look over to Ashtoreth, her face quirked into a smile.

“Like… a… rabbit! Yes, a little rabbit. Like one being pulled out of a hat. Or a magician! They never fail to make people smile.”

“Halloween is meant to be scary, Brother Francis,” Nanny said, keeping her gaze firmly on the gardener, “Don’t listen to him, Warlock, you need to be something that will scare the socks off of everyone who sees you. You could be the grim reaper--or, or do some gory makeup to make it look like your face has been peeled off.”

“Ugh,” Francis wrinkled his nose, “I’m sure the young master doesn’t want--” 

“I’ve seen someone that did that.” Ashtoreth went on, “Amazing what you can do with fake blood these days.”

“--Doesn’t want to dress up as something as ghoulish as that.”

“Ghoulish? That’s what Halloween is all about! That’s what he should be striving for.”

“No, no, no. Don’t listen to her, Warlock, it’s about fancy dress, fun, and sweets. Maybe you could be a clown--”

“Oh, yes! A clown!”

“I’m glad we agree on something, dear.”

“A scary clown!” 

“No, Ashtoreth--”

The pair of them were too far gone in their bickering to notice that Warlock had slipped away. 

He darted across the gardens, toppling over in his haste to run away. The harsh ground scraped against his knee, but Warlock didn’t allow himself any time to sit and cry about it. He continued running, tears welling up in his eyes.

Past the wooden fence, through the thorny bushes, and into his playhouse. He curled up in the corner, resting his chin on his knees. 

Why did everyone want him to be something totally different?

He had to be loud and fun for his friends, be a man for his dad, and be quiet for his mom, be evil for the nanny, and good for the gardener. With all this tugging in every direction, there was never any time to just be _himself_. 

“Warlock!” he heard in the distance, “Warlock, where are you!” 

He sighed and wiped off his eyes, “In here!”

Quickly, the door opened and both Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis charged in.

“Oh, my dear!” Nanny cooed over his scraped knees, “You’re hurt, poor child.”

“I have a bandage somewhere in these pockets of mine,” Francis dug through his coat until he unearthed a little bandaid just the perfect size for the scrape. He stuck it on, and it seemed to make the stinging go away instantly. Warlock sniffed, and Nanny had already procured a hankie to wipe away the dirt and tears on his cheeks.

“You can’t run off like that,” Francis said, “You scared us half to death.”

Ashtoreth interrupted, “Don’t listen to him, we weren’t scared--”

“Why can’t I listen to Brother Francis?” Warlock said, “He says I shouldn’t listen to you, Nanny!”

The pair of them exchanged a guilty glance. 

“My mom doesn’t listen to my dad and my dad doesn’t listen to my mom. No one ever listens to anyone, but most of all, no one _ever_ listens to me.”

“Oh, my dear,” Nanny said, sitting down cross-legged on his left. Francis, gradually and with creaky bones, lowered himself to sit to Warlock’s right. 

“I’m sorry--” Warlock started.

“No,” Francis said firmly, “You’ve no need to apologize. I… We are sorry if we made you feel unheard.” 

Nanny gave him a soft hug, “You know what? If you really can't think of a costume in time, you don't have to wear one.” 

“But Mom--”

“She can just--” Ashtoreth got a scathing look from Francis, “--buzz off, for all I care. You are going trick-or-treating whether she likes it or not. Because I will be the one to take you this year.”

Warlock’s eyes lit up, “Really, Nanny?” 

“Really.” 

He turned to his right, “Can Brother Francis come too?” 

“Err,” he looked around slightly panicked, “I don’t know…”

“Brother Francis _will_ come along,” Nanny said, “And maybe the universe will reward him with a dinner at the Ritz. This Saturday. At seven.”

“Well,” Francis blinked back, “I will hold the universe to that.” 

Nanny gave a half-smile. She stood and brushed off her skirt, “Come on, Warlock. Let’s leave Brother Francis to his gardening. It’s about time for your snack.”

He jumped up and grabbed her hand as she led him out of the playhouse and back towards the mansion. 

***

When Halloween finally arrived, Warlock was terrified of finding himself grounded and locked in his room, but his mother never followed up on her original comments. In fact, she seemed to have forgotten about them altogether. 

He sat in his living room in his normal clothes. The sun was beginning to set and Warlock had his pillowcase ready to be filled with candy of every type. 

Nanny came into the room with a certain gardener on her arm, “Mrs. Dowling, I hope you won’t mind if Brother Francis comes trick-or-treating with us.”

His dad turned to his political friends, and said all-too-loudly, “Luckily, he won’t need a costume.” 

His mom elbowed him, “Of course we don’t mind. Have fun, my darling Warlock. Be safe and stay close to your Nanny, okay?”

He nodded, but couldn’t take his eyes off his guardians. While Francis looked as pleasantly nonplussed as usual, Nanny was bristling. She whispered something to him, and he waved it off. 

And then Dad spilled his drink all over the friend he was trying his hardest to impress. His dad’s face turned a ghostly white as he saw the spreading wine stain on the rich suit, “So sorry, George,” he patted him frantically with a napkin, “So sorry--” 

While he was busy trying to clean up the mess, Francis gestured happily to the door. “Are you ready to go, Master Warlock?” he said. 

He nodded and darted out the door, waiting by the front gates for his two guardians to follow him. Nanny Ashtoreth took his hand and led him down the street, with Brother Francis to his other side. 

Despite not wearing a costume, he got more sweets that Halloween than he had any year before or since.


End file.
